Unlucky Butterfly

Unlucky butterfly, bouncing from air to air,

drunk on life and on freedom,

fluttering aimlessly before youth and beauty fade from wings.

Unlucky butterfly, I hope you never find out the facts.

Your birth happens in spring and ends a short time later.

It is the downside of your happiness.

Once you know how high you are, you can only go down from there.

Your wings were almost perfect, but I already promised not to tell you.

You hurry down the gardens of every stranger,

surrendering into the arms of the first lover you meet.

Before life had the chance to begin,

it wrapped you up in almost the same material from which you came.

You wanted love and is why you die now.

Before spring can mourn your beauty,

another pair of wings have just been found in the sunny air.